


Forgiving the Witness

by galaxbee



Series: Little Dragon Age Fics [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fix-It, Listen if anyone deserves a moirail it's Cole, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Set after Subjected to His Will, Spirit!Cole, but he doesn't make himself forget
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 12:47:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5929027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxbee/pseuds/galaxbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The shadows are like towers and cells and hunger and thirst and dying, like a closet with a still bunny and a flightless, sightless bird. Like a hand that reaches through to comfort but can't help, can't soothe, can't ease a constant pain that never stops. Because he can't… forget. If he forgets, then the boy in the darkness is dead, gone, and he isn't him anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgiving the Witness

“Cole, don't, please!”

Gentle hands tug him down and pull him close like he's dying, like they're dying, are they dying? Hair against his cheek, buttons pressing into fabric and arms grasping him, tightly, wrapping around him like a bow around a box containing something precious. Is he precious?

“I don't want to lose you.”

A whisper in his ear tries to pull him out the darkness and he follows, mind twisted in tangles, the strings taut with guilt and pain. He could erase the knot like brushing aside words in the dirt asking for him, to see him… who is he?

“You don't have to forget to heal.”

A pain of being forgotten, a memory of angered words shouting for removal, for casting aside, like a dulled knife that served its purpose but no longer has use. Nothing is able to help, and there is no comfort. But the hurt is faded, like forgiving and letting go, and it isn't his. He forgave his killer. Can he forgive the witness?

“I can help you, Cole.”

A knife in the enemy, dancing, diving, dipping, dying under his blade before he moves on to another attacker, killing unseen in the shadows. But there's also a wooden duck on the bed that he wishes had wheels, honey in tea and forgotten conversations, small hurts soothed before they're even noticed.

“Come out of the dark one more time.”

He walks into darkness willingly, waveringly, the shadows like towers and cells and hunger and thirst and dying, like a closet with a still bunny and a flightless, sightless bird. Like a hand that reaches through to comfort but can't help, can't soothe, can't ease a constant pain that never stops. Because he can't… forget. If he forgets, then the boy in the darkness is dead, gone, and he isn't him anymore.

“...Cole?”

Hands let go of each other to hold his shoulders like a backwards anchor, pulling him up from the depths of the sea. The sky is blue, bright, brilliant, eyes searching his own for the reflected light as they stand in the night, the moon hanging overhead as a witness. He forgives it, because there are hands pulling him out of the dark, gentle, caring, like breathing and laughing around a crackling fire that doesn't burn.

“Yes. That’s me. I am Cole.”

The arms gather around him again, holding him together as he forgives, the knot untangling. There was a twisted pain in his stomach, grief and loss and guilt, but it falls away under the light. Forgiving is moving on, he sees that now; it is picking up the pieces of yourself and trying to make them fit, soothing smooth edges from jagged ones. Cole is scraps of fabric in the wind and the Inquisitor is the string teaching him how to be string. The amulet glints in the moonlight, a barrier around the pieces so that they are not taken from him in harsh words and crippling demands. The Inquisitor glows, and there is nothing more to forgive.

“Thank you.” “Thank you.”


End file.
